Mass Effect: Indomitable
by daarb123
Summary: It matters not what others have done, only how you survive. Follow the story of disgraced N7 Soren Titus as he climbs the ranks of the Alliance, meets new friends, and eventually arrives at a place he can finally call home. Slightly AU, OC heavy. Short mention of game characters. Updates regularly!
1. 1: Collapse

**A/N: Greetings to all! I realize that while I do still have some fics that are out there unfinished, they have all been essentially dead for almost, if not over a year. Each of those fics were written straight off the top of my head, and quickly written straight into the ground. **

**Thus my decision to oversee a real fic with actual planning and a cool story arc to boot. I figured since I was reading so much ME fanfiction lately that I make my first entry into the fandom. Several times before I had actually tried to do a couple oneshots here and there, but nothing really stuck. It was when I was making my OC submission to ConvictionSC that I realized: Wow, there's an idea.**

**This is really long, so I'll end it here. Please, enjoy my first ever ME fic, and my first planned fic ever!**

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns Mass Effect. OCs owned by me. **

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Operations Chief Soren Titus was very angry at the Alliance and Black Ops intel. His team was haplessly cornered into a highly undesirable situation while the mission objective slowly slipped through their fingers. The mission was a complete bust, and it seemed like things were about to take a turn for the worse.

It all started out with a simple mission. A "milk run", as many called it. He and his team were assigned with a no-frills undercover protection job. Like most missions on the SSV Oceania, a classified NavSpecWar vessel even smaller than the Normandy-Class, there were copious amounts of black tape to navigate. Mission parameters indicated that the target was of utmost importance to the Alliance, survival at all cost, and the usual mumbo-jumbo about your typical black ops mission. The briefing listed only one contact to get them started.

Basically, the Alliance wanted the team to wing it. _Might as well have told us to shove it completely._

Soren was not surprised at the Alliance's tenacity to blot out what would normally be important details for their most experienced operatives. What was definitely fishy about this mission, however, was that the HVI was not a retired Alliance Admiral, nor a person of great societal value, and not even an adult. The HVI was a teenaged boy, son of one of the Alliance's most generous benefactors, and he was spending his days out in clubs, drinking his life away on the Citadel.

A fully trained N7 squad was going undercover to protect a spoiled brat on the Citadel. Soren now snorted at the irony in that.

For weeks Alliance HighCom had been giving the Oceania bullshit black ops missions, ones where even Black Ops infantry squads would be sufficient. As a result, the N7s onboard often felt left out of engagements, sometimes landing ashore to wrap up loose ends, but most of the time not even leaving the ship. It was no wonder that the rest of them were completely agitated and restless for action.

His CO, 1st LT Chris Perry, was a man with a colorful CSV, having participated in large scale engagements and leading his soldiers to a dashing success in each one, with one of the highest all-time survival rates currently in the Alliance military. The man was a military hero, even if he was modest about it, and had seen his share of battles everywhere, including the First Contact War. It was a shame that he hadn't made Admiral, or even Captain yet.

CPL David Brooke and PFC Garrett Anderson were your typical, battered and solid dependable riflemen. Strong in most situations, and definitely able to stand their own against most other adversaries, they went to boot camp together and have been inseparable since. Add in some biotics to the mix and you have a powerful duo capable of handling most of the heavy hitting.

Specialist Alex Yang was definitely not your typical, cool, sniper. This man's weapons of choice, a Carnifex and a Widow reflected that explosive personality. A lethal weapon anywhere on the field, Alex was definitely one of the most energetic people Soren had met.

A heavy weapons specialist – Soren – and the party had a little extra oomph to get going. The N7 team, codenamed Arrowhead, was one of many that operated on the edges of Alliance jurisdiction. Barely recognized, but taking the toughest jobs, the teams were often compared to the Council's SpecTRes (within the Alliance, of course).

_Ratatatatatat! _

Another sizable volley of rifle fire smashed against the table Soren and David had knocked over. The LT and Garrett were holding their own on another side of the bar, while Alex was crouched in the middle holding down the HVI.

"Running low on ammo!" called Garrett, just as Soren cycled his last heat sink out of his Eagle.

David threw out another massive shockwave, toppling some of the mercs and downing one's shields. Soren pegged several rounds through the man's visor, dropping him dead instantly. As he dropped back down to survey the situation, he could see the biotic was getting very tired, with sweat dripping down his brow and blood flowing from his nose. Sharing a glance at the LT, he knew the same was happening to Garrett.

There were still so many of them left, and nothing the N7s did could stop them. Soren was losing hope.

_Déjà vu, eh, Russell?_

As he kept fighting, Soren's mind began surging through memories, recounting his life from step one.


	2. 2: Rise

**Here's the first real chapter. Enjoy. Also, if anyone has an interest in being my Beta, please shoot me a PM and we'll work from there.**

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns Mass Effect. OCs mine. Thanks to chinas for following!**

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"TIT BOY! Come here!" Russell gestured wildly for Soren. His gang, Lentus Potestatem, had engaged in a gang war with the U91. The two gangs were some of the largest in Trion III, spanning vast networks across its largest cities. Soren – and Russell for that matter – were merely pawns in this giant chess game, but the two boys had helped each other survive. Russell and the others in this little section of Lentus had picked Soren up outside his recently burned-down house, with a vid message from his parents and no one to turn to. He was just a kid then, living alone with his parents killed on a business trip by pirate raiders.

Pretty soon Soren had a new home with Russell and the gang. Many times it was them who kept Soren living like a human and not a lost puppy. It was extremely disconcerting at times: Soren would simply phase out and get lost in his own little world, thinking about his past life and how he never really spent enough time with his only thing concrete that he ever took to living by was Lentus' motto: Rise Again. It was supposed to be part of some long living tradition about rising again like a phoenix and whatnot, but throughout the years it had trickled down to a simple Rise Again.

After a while, once the rest of the gang learned of Soren's last name, they were reduced to calling him "tit boy," for whatever reason. "Titus" wasn't even remotely pronounced like "tit," but they did it anyway, and Soren couldn't find the will to stop them.

As the boys grew older, their tasks grew more ambitious. What started out as simple sabotage (placing stinkbombs and frying electrical equipment in mundane places) transformed into larger and more dangerous tasks. Eventually, Soren and his team were doing demolition jobs almost daily, and since explosives didn't leave much evidence, it was always a simple matter of getting away for another job. This one, however, went wrong.

"How the fuck did those not go off? What was the boss thinking, giving us duds like this?" screamed Russell, just as yet another burst of gunfire rattled the permacrete wall they were hiding behind.

"I don't know man! Just figure something out, so we don't get smoked alive!" replied Dax, cowering beside Soren.

Every op beforehand had gone by pretty much without a hitch. It was a relatively simple job to get in, set the charges, knock out a few sentries and get the hell out of there before the whole place went boom. This time, however, the gang had screwed up and gotten noticed.

Ordinarily this wouldn't be an issue. The boys would have done enough recon that they knew the area well enough, and engage in a game of cat and mouse with the armed guards. It wasn't like they knew what was inside the building they needed to blow up anyway.

This was Soren's 18th birthday present.

_Sonofabitch._

After some cat and mouse – where the gang would very subtly lead the sentries back deep inside the building and then haul ass out of there – it was a simple matter to set off the charges and get the guards out of their hair. Then it was cut loose and regroup at the hideout.

This time, the charges were a dud. No boom, no deaths, and rifle fire was going everywhere.

Out of the three boys, Dax was panicking.

He looked at Soren with crazy eyes, and before Soren could stop him, he had already shouted, "Screw this!" and started sprinting away, trying to make a break for it.

The ERCS sentries were relatively good shots, and riddled Dax's exposed back with assault rifle fire.

"SHIT!" screamed Russell. The two boys left shared a glance, and realized time was quickly running out. Unarmed, and severely outgunned, their only hope was to sit tight and hope the sentries ran out of ammo or had a weapon malfunction.

The two huddled closer together, quaking in fear as the sentries slowly shot up the wall separating them.

Soren knew they wouldn't make it. Not if they stayed together.

He turned to start speaking just to find Russell had done the same, mouth open and about to say something.

"I – "

"We're – "

Both stopped. Then Russell grabbed Soren's arm.

"Bro, you've gotta get out of here. You can't return to the gang, they'll brand you as a coward and execute you in public. Escape from this place, join the Alliance, I don't know. Go somewhere where you'll actually have a future.

"I've seen your parents' house before it burned down. I know what kind of family you're from. Hell, the only reason we found you was because I was planning to rob the shit out of you." He flinched as a stray shot bounced a little too close for comfort. Those ERCS guys must be practically on top of them.

"Soren, get out of here. Find a life. _Rise Again!_"

At that moment, even though Russell was only a few years older than him, Soren couldn't help but feel like a father was saying his last words to his son. Russell had literally taken a chunk out of his own life to support Soren, and he had yet to repay the favor.

Now he wouldn't ever be able to.

Soren opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. The gravity of the situation was still escaping him. Russell, with his suddenly much more determined eyes, gave Soren one last instruction.

"Once I start shouting and jumping, you run like hell. You got it?! Don't throw this chance away!" And with that, he started bellowing insults while running from cover to cover, trying to draw attention from Soren.

It worked, for a while. Soren ran, never looking back.

But then he heard Russell cry out in pain. He heard the thud of his body hit the ground, and his heart sank in despair. He tried to look, but a burst of fire screamed over his head, and he ran.

He didn't stop running for a while. He didn't dare to go back to the hideout. They'd simply beat him to death. And he definitely didn't go running for help. He simply ran on, into the city.

Two hours later, when his legs felt like absolutely nothing and he finally didn't have enough to take another step, Soren collapsed on the sidewalk.

It took a few minutes, but eventually it sank in: He didn't have anywhere else to go.

Silent tears streamed down his face. First his parents, then his grandparents, and now, the only friends that he ever knew. There was nothing left, nowhere to run, and not a single friendly face to turn to.

Soren sat in an alley that night, crying to himself, and wondering what the hell he was supposed to do. At night, he tried to sleep, but the nightmares of Russell's dead face staring at him kept him awake. Some stray cats bounded down to join him, and he took solace in their willingness to be with him.

A few hours later he had calmed down enough to begin to logically think for himself. He spent the quiet night pondering his future, where he could possibly go.

By sunrise, he had already figured out where to begin.

Join the Alliance, Russell had said. He would Rise Again, a proud upholder of Lentus' values.

It was as good an idea as any. He really didn't want to spend the rest of his life on this disgusting planet, and at least they'd have food and shelter.

Soren walked out of his hidey-hole, and started walking to the Alliance recruitment office. It was a start, and it might as well be a new one.

1010010100111

While being 18, Soren didn't have any real identification with him. The recruiter was more than a little suspicious. But against his better judgment, he filed away the paperwork and gave Soren his recruitment details.

Half an hour later, Soren was strapped in with a dozen other guys, all crammed into a Kodiak shuttle painted in Alliance blue.

Since Trion III was simply a small jump away from Arcturus station, the new recruits took a short nap before meeting their new employers. Soren's mind went blank. Life once again had no meaning to it anymore. He did what he was told as he stepped off the shuttle.

The requisitions officer gave each recruit a set of fatigues, a military issue omni-tool, and implanted each with an identifying bio chip. After a quick, tasteless meal, Soren was ordered to report to another flight deck where he could be shipped off to wherever basic was.

The omni-tool was definitely something that he never used during his childhood. It fascinated him, and he kicked himself for not keeping himself educated after he joined Lentus. He could barely read the writing from the omni-tool, but having something this fancy and new after living off the street and wearing hand-me-downs was definitely a breath of fresh air. For a while, it distracted him from his losses, and he fiddled with the orange tool constantly.

Being in a gang meant he was pretty active, but he was still nowhere near the fitness requirements of a functioning military. After arriving at basic with several hundred other recruits, Soren devoted himself to the training.

He ran faster, grew stronger, learned basic academics, learned how to shoot properly (that one was a shocker. He had no idea how badly he could have screwed himself up had he continued shooting like he did. Like, deformed body bad.) and became a man for the first time.

His training group, Epsilon – Five gave a new meaning to "comrades," and the men struggled together, trying to get past the vigor of basic training. For twelve weeks Soren scrabbled, gasped, and flailed. But it was the final test that truly tested the boy from Trion III.

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**Hopefully you guys are getting a sense of Soren's character. **

**I have to admit that I used Google Translate to get Soren's Latin gang name. It translates to "Unyielding Power." A silly name, but a name nevertheless, and it sounds far cooler in Latin than in English. **

**Please rate and review if you're interested in the story! I would love to hear what you all think!**


	3. 3: Initiation

**Thanks to swemanD47 for favoriting! Still looking for a beta, so if you're interested, please let me know!**

**We see some action in this chapter, I hope you enjoy! I've also made some minute edits on the last couple chapters, just to get some facts straight. **

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns ME, I own my chars.**

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**0430 hours, Military Standard Time. Unknown world, Epsilon barracks. Systems Alliance Military Calendar, July 14****th****, 2173.**

BRRRRRRRRRR!

The blast of the horn jerked Soren awake. Quickly, he slipped on his fatigues and boots, and scrabbled to make his bed. In 60 seconds, Soren had finished his "get out of bed routine." He stood at attention at the foot of his bunk, with Fred "Iceman" Kowalski beside him.

It wasn't even light yet, Soren noted with slight annoyance. No one knew what to expect. It was times like these that the platoon really had no idea what the Sarge had in mind for them.

"ALRIGHT RECRUITS! TODAY IS THE BEGINNING OF THE END OF BOOT CAMP!" bellowed the drill sergeant. "That means I have exactly three days to make your life a living HELL! Everyone drop and give me a hundred, and run the obstacle course! Anyone not back in twenty minutes and you'll all do it twice more!"

"Aye, sir!" yelled the recruits in unison. Soren dropped to his hands and started doing his pushups.

If he tried this before basic, Soren was sure that he wouldn't have made it. But twelve hard weeks of conditioning had made him physically more capable than ever in his life. The Sarge wasn't really pushing them with this task, and they all knew it. It made Soren wonder more about what they had to do today.

As the recruits all finished up at around the same time, they all started sprinting to the obstacle course. It took Soren about a hundred seconds to do his pushups, and it took five minutes each way to the obstacle course at a decent pace. That left only about 8 minutes to finish the grueling course, and the course record was only 7 minutes 40 seconds. Growling, Soren pushed himself to run faster. He wasn't about to be one of those who were slower than the time limit.

Soren could see some of the others already starting on the rope net as he approached the obstacle course. It was still before sunrise, and it did make things a little more difficult to navigate. But truth be told, the recruits had been put through the course so many times that it was a simple matter to get up and do it. He wasn't worried about Iceman either – the guy was a tank when it came to physical activity.

Soren blasted through the course with no issues, and made it back one of the first. Iceman was not too far behind, and the rest of the platoon actually squeezed through the time limit. Soren himself was surprised.

The drill sergeant clicked off the stopwatch. "Good job recruits. Now, suit up. We're going for a little joyride in a shuttle."

The recruits were given a small meal before being ushered off into the armory, where everyone strapped on a hardsuit and a standard issue survival pack. Soren grabbed a M-66 assault rifle and a sidearm. He was kitted up to go, and he stepped on one of the three shuttles with Iceman.

"What do you think the Sarge'll throw at us today?" Iceman asked, just as the shuttle took off. Soren took off his helmet for the ride, disliking the recycled air of the hardsuit.

Soren shrugged. "Who knows. It'll definitely be a curveball though, he hasn't been this nice to us in the morning for a while."

Iceman nodded, and Soren moved to check his rifle before touchdown. It looked like some of the other recruits were catching up on some sleep, so Soren closed his eyes, stowed his rifle in the weapons rack by his seat, and held his helmet in his arms. He soon drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

After some time, Soren was jerked awake by a lurch of the shuttle. All around him, the other recruits were shaking their heads, knocked awake as well. Soren expected the pilot to give them a heads up but nothing came over the intercom.

_Must have been some turbulence. _

Just then, klaxons blared and the shuttle lurched once before dropping like a rock.

Scrambling to get his helmet on, Soren quickly tightened the straps on his harness to make sure he didn't flop around the cabin like a fish out of water. As the g-forces pulled at everyone inside, he could only guess at how the shuttle was supposed to survive a crash like this.

Soren blacked out just as the shuttle crunched to the ground.

_What the fuck?_

10101110111101

Soren woke to Iceman shaking him awake. The other man gave an audible sigh of relief.

"Dude. I thought you were dead."

Soren blinked.

"Pulse check? Omni-tool? Dude, seriously? Didn't you do basic medical?" Soren sat up slowly, running a systems check on his hardsuit, while testing his limbs for damage. "What happened?"

Iceman gave Soren a hand up. "The Sarge set us up. He made sure the shuttle failed at a certain point, then locked out the system. Techie checked it out. It's still good, but no one's flying it any time soon."

His suit returned green across the board. Soren started looking over his gear to see if anything had fallen out. "Pilots?" It seemed the only thing missing was his rifle.

"None. Must have been on autopilot." Ah. That explained the silence from the cockpit.

"Anyone hurt?" Soren looked around for the first time to make sure he was acquainted with his surroundings. It seemed that they were in the Nixxus forest, about a couple hours' shuttle ride from the base. The team had trained here often when the Sarge wanted a wilderness environment. "How are we doing?"

"No one's hurt, and everyone's accounted for. That makes about twelve of us." Iceman shifted nervously. "What do you think the Sarge is thinking?"

Soren moved over to the crashed shuttle. The other recruits were still sorting themselves out, conversing with one another as they recovered from the crash.

They needed to get a move on, and try to find a way out of this mess.

Soren fished around the troop compartment to see what was salvageable within. He gripped his rifle from its rack next to its seat, and pulled. It took a little bit, but eventually it came out with an audible pop.

A datapad had been knocked free from its shelf above the seats, and Soren bent over to check whose it was. He was slightly surprised when it flashed and a transmission began downloading. It opened as it finished, and text scrolled out before its display.

***Incoming transmission***

From: Sarge

To: Datapad No. 64817

Subject: Mission briefing

***Begin Transmission***

Shuttle one, you are now designated Team Alpha. This will be the final test in your training. Attached is a map with mission objectives. Be on the lookout.

***End Transmission***

***Attached: Area Map***

***Attached: Mission parameters***

It was an extremely vague message. Not surprised at the Sarge's tact, Soren brought the datapad out just as Iceman poked his head into the wreck.

"What are you doing in there?"

"Picking up my rifle. I also found this." Soren showed him the datapad. After reading its contents, Iceman stared at Soren.

A pause. "What?"

Iceman gestured with the datapad. "What do you want to do?"

Soren's mind whirled to understand the question. _Huh?_ "You want me to make a decision?"

Iceman remained silent.

"O…K. Umm…" There hadn't been any leadership exercises yet. It was basic, after all. Soren looked around, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He had never been a leader himself, and he really didn't want to assume the role. "Don't we have someone else?"

"Take a look, Soren. No one here is doing anything. They're just waiting for orders. You're the only one who could even remotely lead a team."

It was true. All the recruits were still standing around. One older recruit was standing off to the side, quietly smoking a cig.

_Ah… Shit._

"O…K." Soren paused to examine the rest of the orders. "Give me a minute." After a giving himself a few breaths to soothe his nerves, Soren repeated Lentus' mantra like he had so many times before.

Rise Again. It had helped drive him through the difficulties of basic, and made him more capable than ever before. He wasn't going to give up now.

The map pointed out an abandoned power station about fifty klicks away from their current position, and provided detailed topography of the surrounding area. It was obviously the objective. Soren downloaded the map to his battle interface and opened the attachment with the mission parameters.

*OPEN FILE: Mission Parameters*

Your team is to secure and power up the designated building. Be on the lookout for hostile opposition. Weapons are loaded with simTrain ammunition. You are authorized to use any means necessary to neutralize opponents. Teams Bravo and Delta are considered HOSTILE.

After securing the objective, you are to move to secondary extraction point for extraction. You will be evaluated on this exercise based on these two objectives.

*END FILE: Mission Parameters*

Soren reread it a couple of times, just to make sure he got everything down. It was all still terribly vague, but he would make do. Then he stood on the step of the crashed shuttle, boosting his vocal output on the hardsuit's speakers.

He nodded to Iceman, who took a step back.

"Alright, listen up. I got some orders from Sarge, and I'm sending them to you now." He paused as the recruits – no, Alpha - all received the same message on their omni-tools. Several looked confused. Others seemed unwilling to do the task. But most simply looked up to Soren after they finished reading, waiting for his command.

"I've decided that someone needs to lead this operation, and I've volunteered to accept that position. You've all seen me in action, and I trust you all to do your jobs. You know how I operate. If anyone has a problem with this, speak now."

Some of the recruits wanted to say something, but stopped after thinking over Soren's words. Soren excelled in each training exercise that had any leadership component, usually taking his team to victory. He seemed to do better the worse the situation, and even the Sarge had praised "good work" after a particularly tough exercise. Soren was the best man for the job, and they all knew it. It didn't matter that they were all in the same boat.

When no one spoke, Soren gave his first order. "Fall in! We're making at least thirty five klicks today!"

It was ambitious, to say the least. Alpha began the long march through the Nixxus forest to the power station, weary of what the Sarge had in store for them.

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**Once again, please review! I'll update soon!**

_S1 Skipper: Thanks for your review. You did it as guest so I couldn't reply directly. I do appreciate your thoughts, and heeded your constructive criticism. Much obliged. To address the Oceania: I thought a Black Ops team would have relied on more cloak-and-dagger methods to get around the galaxy, and not much is needed to house just a few operatives. A small, low maintenance stealth ship that could quickly ferry this one team up and about different worlds seemed to be the most effective option. Of course, sometimes a dreadnought works just as well. Thanks again!_


	4. 4: Conflict

**Hi there! Here's some action to keep things interesting!**

**I took some liberties with firearms technology for humans, as I can't see them wordlessly switching to the galactic standards of heat based weaponry. What else did they use to fight in the First Contact War but projectiles, even with Prothean tech? (Besides, the Protheans used beam rifles anyway ;).**

**Hope you enjoy, and as always, review!**

**Disclaimer: Bioware's sandbox, my chars.**

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Alpha trudged on through the Nixxus forest for the next few hours, ready for action. Soren had chosen a route that wound through the heart of the forest but still hugged the side of a mountain, providing the team with shelter from one direction.

The point man held up a fist as a bush rustled. The team paused…

… And breathed a collective sigh of relief as a small animal scurried across the forest floor.

It was about another half hour when Soren couldn't focus very well. They had been going for hours non-stop, and as he checked the time on his omni-tool he found it was nearing mid afternoon. If they wanted to make to his original marker but not be overly fatigued, they needed to rest now.

"Halt. We'll rest here for fifteen minutes. Rotate positions."

Quickly the team hunkered down and opened their packs for ration sticks. As Soren munched on his own, he couldn't help but wonder about the other teams and when were they planning their attack.

A few minutes passed in silence as the team quietly rested their tired bodies. Soren scooted over to "Techie," or Richard White, one of the older recruits. He had his fair share of tech experience with a police force back on Earth, and even spent a little time with some of the Turian departments on Palaven as a layover when his ship broke down. As a result, Rich became the platoon's designated tech expert and could hack into almost anything he wanted.

Soren had assigned him from the get go to begin scanning for the other teams' frequencies. He knew no one else in the platoon was even close to Techie's level with tech, and having a step up in their communication was definitely a plus. With luck, they should be able to patch in and eavesdrop on the others.

"What have you got?" he asked, as Rich fiddled away on his omni-tool. Soren stowed his pack and checked his rifle once more. They should be heading out soon.

"I've got Bravo's frequency. Patching in, now." Rich hit the enter key and a short fizz sounded in Soren's ear before clearing up.

"We're about five hundred meters out. Standing by." Soren recognized the voice belonging to Nick Voudrai, the best shot in the platoon. No doubt they gave him a sniper rifle on this task. "Techie's talking with Titus. Looks like they're planning something."

Soren shared a small glance with Rich. Well, the attack was coming sooner rather than later.

"Squad, I'm patching us into Bravo's frequency. Once I do, I want you guys to pack up and get ready to head out. No sudden movements. Nick has his eyes trained on us and is ready to blow our heads off."

He received clicks of confirmation. "Alright. Let's get going."

Soren racked his brain on how to avoid a sniper watch. In his days with Lentus, he and Russell had to get by sniper pairs often, and he'd gotten quite adept at it. Quickly studying the map on his HUD, Soren identified points of cover where the squad could move quickly while minimizing exposure. With a little luck, they could hopefully move towards Nick and take him out.

"Move out, and keep sharp. We want to find Nick and take him out."

Soren pulled back the charging handle on his M-66. Ever since the First Contact War and the adoption of mass accelerators, human weaponry had changed somewhat. But instead of the massive heat-based weapons of the other council races, humanity had stuck to its tried and true formula of ammunition based weapons, each with individual cartridges, magazines and the like. No overheating, and no illusions about "unlimited ammo."

Caseless ammunition made a breakthrough in 2065, and mass accelerator technology had been built directly into the technology, reducing the hassle of gunpowder and rendering it obsolete. SimTrain ammunition, which coordinated with most hardsuits and locked up whichever body part it hit, served as the ultimate training tool for combat.

The M-66 was the latest in human rifle technologies, lightweight and sporting a modular bullpup design enabling troops to carry a versatile weapons system on any mission. Soren had come to know the rifle as a reliable companion that never failed when he needed it.

Hefting the rifle, he overlaid orders to the rest of the team, the combat interface quick and efficient to relay the message. The Alliance didn't equip its soldiers with kinetic barriers during training, however, and a sniper shot _hurt_.

"Begin. Take them out, Nick."

"Roger." With that, the report of a sniper echoed through the forest.

The squad had heard it coming, but wasn't quick enough to escape unscathed. Branson was caught straight in the chest, the simTrain ammo instantly locking up his hardsuit and making him effectively "dead." The rest quickly went to their designated routes, trying to avoid sniper fire while simultaneously advancing towards the sniper.

"Where is it coming from?" roared Soren as he hunkered down beside a boulder. He waved the next guy on, frantic to keep moving. It hurt to "lose" one of his team from their first conflict even if it was a training exercise. It was jarring to see a man crumple to the ground.

Soren's strategy was to split the team into two, with one drawing the sniper's fire and the other slowly making its way to Nick to take him out. Since no one had taken any smoke grenades from the armory, this had to make do.

"Roger," replied Iceman.

_Boom!_

Another shot whizzed past not two inches from Soren's faceplate, waking him from his thought process. "Team two, let's get a move on! One will draw the heat!"

More affirmatives sounded out as Alpha worked to eliminate the threat.

"Nick, status report," crackled the voice of the other leader. Soren couldn't recognize him, not with the rest of the battlefield noise.

"Got just one, the others are reacting. I can't get a bead on any of them!"

_Boom!_

Soren heard a grunt, and a small thud as someone got hit.

"I'm hit!" cried one of the younger recruits, Locke.

"Someone help him! Suppressing fire!"

Soren and a couple others rose from where they had taken shelter, and directed fire towards what they thought was Nick's position. The sniper shots stopped, and someone else managed to drag Locke to safety. Soren kept firing until his rifle clicked empty, quickly ducking down to slot a fresh magazine in.

"Team two! What's your position?" Soren tried to peek around the rock and quickly jerked back as another simTrain round splattered against the cover.

"Almost on top of him! Give us a few minutes, tops!" Iceman replied, obvious huffs of breath coming through the comm.

Soren grit his teeth. Things were going too slow. They were still a fair distance from the objective, and they were wasting all their ammunition on this one sniper.

Just as Soren was running out of ideas, another burst of fire rattled out from near Nick's position. He heard the sniper grunt and then, nothing.

"Target neutralized. You're all clear." Reported Iceman's voice.

"Good work. Everyone, I want an ammo check and then someone give me a status report. Be ready to move in five."

A chorus of ayes greeted him. He went to check on Locke.

SimTrain not only locked up the hardsuit, it was able to respond to quick medical treatment as if it were a real limb. One of the guys had spread a battlefield dressing onto Locke's shoulder and the SimTrain loosened up, somewhat.

"How are you doing?" asked Soren.

"Fine. I can still shoot, if that's what you're asking."

"Alright. Be ready." Soren moved to Iceman, who was taking care of their one true "casualty."

Someone had removed Branson's helmet so he could talk but his body was completely immobilized by the simTrain. Soren patted his shoulder.

"Sorry man, I wish you could've kept going." Branson nodded, resigned to his fate.

"I'll wait for pickup. Go ahead guys, and give them hell."

Soren nodded and resealed his helmet, mobilizing the team. They had picked Nick's gear clean and taken his helmet as well. He stared at the unified team, and wondered how they could be so organized in front of his assault.

The team had expended some ammunition in the fight and suffered only the two casualties, but did quite well as a whole. It was no problem to simply take unused mags from Nick and Branson and keep going. Alpha trudged on deeper into the forest, trying to make up for lost time.

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**Please let me know what you think!**


	5. 5: Loss

**Hey everyone! Sorry about the little delay in the update. Real life got a little in the way and I couldn't find the time to edit and post this chapter. But I already have a lot of the story planned out and some of it written, so updates should be coming in quickly. **

**I do hope that everyone's enjoying the ride so far. On another note, please vote on the poll on my profile, about Shepard's ethnicity in this fic. I couldn't decide who to use, since I think something other than the default Caucasian Shepard would be interesting to weave into this story. I may just end up using exactly that, but if I get enough responses to a different ethnicity, I'll put that in as well. No racism here, just trying out a new angle on the story.**

**Without further adieu, let's go!**

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns ME, I own OCs.**

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Soren opted to not light a fire at night. It would simply give the team's position away, and Soren would rather be cold and hidden than light a flaming beacon in the middle of operations. Bravo's radio traffic had lessened somewhat, once they realized Nick was down.

Soren quickly established guard shifts and had everyone sleep in their suits after a quick ration stick meal. It wasn't comfortable, but you couldn't ask for better battle-readiness.

"Where do you think they are now?" one of Bravo's men spoke into the comm. The other guys on watch visibly tensed up as the enemy's chatter started up again.

"I dunno, man. Those guys took out Nick! If they could out-do our best shooter, then I don't know what chance we stand against them."

Personally, Soren thought that they wasted their opportunity with Nick by placing him in a much too exposed position and trying to let him take down the entire team without support. It was one against twelve, even if he was a good shot. Not very good odds.

"Nah, it'll be fine – wait, what was that?"

_Huh?_ Soren stole a glance with Locke. _What's going on?_

"What was what? I swear, dude, you get these visions all the time –"

"Dude, I'm not kidding! There it is again!"

"Shit, I see it! I'll go wake the others! You see anything funny, start – HRK!"

The rest of the watch listened intently. Soren shook Iceman awake. He tapped his helmet, Iceman getting the message and slipping his on.

"Shit!" Soren could hear the man from Bravo panting heavily as he ran, swearing lightly to himself. "Shit shit shit!" A burst of gunfire echoed across the comm.

"Joey! Help!" Soren recognized the name of another "leader" type in their platoon. So Joey Pulaski was in command of Bravo. "Ahh!" shouted the man just as another burst crackled through his earpiece.

Three down, so far. How many more with this attack? Soren slapped himself for getting so caught up in the transmission. He rushed to Techie's side, and soon he was getting to work triangulating the signal to find both Bravo and Delta.

Sounds of battle quickly washed through the Bravo comm. channel, but pretty soon it seemed that only a few were left. Soren recognized Joey's voice as one of the survivors as they ran, completely flushed from their camp. He looked to Techie, who nodded and sent Soren a Nav point about five klicks away. Elizabeth, one of the few women in the platoon, got to work getting the others up.

10110100110001

Instead of blindly engaging the enemy, Soren elected to stay out of their way. Alpha was too far away to capitalize on their maneuver. Even if they set out to make a move on the others, there was no guarantee that they hadn't already settled in and waiting for an attack.

Techie had finally figured out Delta's frequency. Soren alternated between the two teams, listening for anything out of the ordinary. As they pushed towards the power station, Soren studied the TacMap, waiting for any opportunity to get the upper hand. As leader of the team, it his duty to ensure that as many of his team survived.

It was almost dawn when they crept upon the edges of the power station. Soren didn't think the other teams beat them to the station, seeing as they were quite a bit further behind than Alpha. He ordered radio silence as they approached, just in case the other teams found a way to patch in as well.

Soren, Techie and Elizabeth were all laying prone just on the edge of the forest, studying the station where it sat in a small clearing. The rest of the team was spread out around the perimeter. Soren flicked through various visor modes, mildly humming when he didn't find anything.

"Do you see anything unusual?" he asked, speaking through short range comms with no chance of hacking. Iceman sighted through Nick's sniper rifle, slowly studying the structure, while Elizabeth served as a third set of eyes.

"No thermal or X-Ray is getting through. All quiet so far."

_Grr. Risky, and there might be a trap right at the doorway. Screw it. It's now or never. _

"Alright. You two, with me. We're going to head into the station, power it up, and get out of here." Affirmative clicks rang through his comm. "Go!"

It was quick, and they managed to get inside fairly quickly. The station was practically dead, with next to no power to run station systems. Techie was working his magic and trying to find a loophole, but there was simply no way the station could get powered without proper systems to control the generators.

Elizabeth kept an eye out as Soren looked for anything that could help them. He eventually managed to find a large metal thing.

_Huh?_ Was the first thought that came to mind. It looked like a really old engine of some sort, with fans and… some sort of black pipe at the side. The team outside was getting jittery, given how long they had been gone. Soren set to work to try to power up the old machine. His hands ran over the heavy gauge steel, trying to understand what he saw. After a moment, he grabbed the pull starter, checked for a spark plug, and pulled with all his might.

It took several tries, but eventually the motor cranked and spluttered to life before revving up to full speed. Overhead lights came on, and Techie now had the power to coordinate the reactor start up. Soren waited for him to give the thumbs up, and was about to radio Iceman outside when a huge explosion rocked the building.

_That didn't sound right. Too heavy for a training round._

He scrambled to his feet, holding up Elizabeth with one arm as he barked into the comm.

"Status report!"

"Bro, I don't know what the hell's going on, man. We're all just hunkered down here then suddenly there's this huge boom out of nowhere dude I don't want to die here man -"

"Iceman, calm down. I need you to stay focused and get the rest of the squad out of the shelling area. The building seems to be holding up alright, so we'll stay here while we try to figure out what's going on. In the meantime, start making your way to a safe place. You have a map, find a spot."

Soren could hear the other man gulp through the comm. "Okay. Okay. Alpha, let's move out! The others will catch up with us."

Satisfied, Soren tuned in to the other teams frequencies. Another blast hit the building and he wobbled before steadying himself. He opened a platoon wide channel, syncing up with all three frequencies.

"Epsilon, this is Soren Titus. I'm being shelled with full strength artillery at the power station, and I'm pretty sure you can't make 'training' rounds for artillery. You guys seeing this, over?" He hoped the others did see it and saw that he wasn't trying to fake an alliance.

"Yeah, Soren. Delta sees it." Halley Parnell was an authoritative woman. The men in the group had pored over her at the beginning of basic for her good looks, but one snap of her mouth had the offending male running for the nearest hidey-hole. It was no surprise that she was one of the leaders of the group. "Looks like a tough spot, over."

"No kidding, Halley. That's full bombardment on that station. You're lucky that it's built to bomb shelter spec, Soren." Joey Pulaski's voice crackled over the comm. Soren liked the man, but never spent too much time with him. He knew Pulaski was a sharp tactician with a sense of humor, but never really got to know him that well.

"I'm going to assume the training exercise is off. There's absolutely no reason to bombard one of your training groups during exercise. I need your help to figure out what's going on, okay?"

Affirmative clicks sounded through the comm.

"Alright. I need some guys locating some live ammo, another group scouting out the extraction site, and the rest of the guys forming the bulk of the unit. We fight together as a team now, and I want answers."

"Roger that, Soren. Delta's going to scout the extraction site. Joey, you think you can find some live ammo for our boys?"

"Aye, Halley. We'll meet you, say, here?" a nav point appeared on Soren's TacMap.

"Sure. Let's make that our rendezvous. Alpha, you got all that?" Elizabeth's head banged into the wall next to her as another round rocked the building.

"Loud and clear, Soren. We're ready. We'll link up with Delta on the way."

"Good. Titus out." Soren turned to the other two and explained his exit strategy once Techie finished up with his work.

The plan was to time the artillery strikes so that when the team emerged from the power station, they would minimize exposure time. Soren worked out that if they left right at one of the explosions, they would only be subject to one additional artillery blast on the way to the treeline. It was as good a plan as any, and the three stacked up against the doorway.

At the appropriate time, they sprinted, full blast across the clearing, hoping to make it outside the blast zone.

At about halfway Soren spotted a bright glint at the edge of his vision. He turned his head in time to see Elizabeth's head explode in a shower of crimson, her body thrown to the side.

"FUCK!" swore Soren, his guts threatening to empty their contents into his visor. He stopped, bent down to sling the headless body over his shoulder, and sprinted after Techie's retreating ass.

By a pure stroke of luck, two more of the sniper's shots missed before Soren made it to the cover of the forest. He crumpled next to a tree and laid Elizabeth down on the forest ground, breathing heavily. "All units, be on the lookout for snipers in the area. One of them just took Elizabeth out. Over."

Soren turned his comm. off just as the rest of the platoon started shouting back at him. He couldn't deal with them right now. All he could do was pocket Elizabeth's blood spattered dog tags off what was left of her neck, and slowly come to terms that this woman who he'd been living, eating and sleeping with for the past twelve weeks was now dead.

Techie had taken one look at Elizabeth and started retching, a few feet away from where the two lay.

His mind hadn't caught up to what happened yet. All he felt right then was just… emptiness. It was losing Russell all over again.

When some of the others found the two, they recoiled. Iceman gave Soren a hand up, softly saying that there was nothing they could do.

Even though his head was telling him that it wasn't his fault, Soren couldn't help feeling in his gut that it _was_ his fault Elizabeth was now dead.

A quick glance at the TacMap showed that the other units were nearing their designated positions, and his omni-tool was showing an incoming message from some of the Alliance ships stationed in orbit. Soren realized that as a soldier, one had to be willing to take the risks and simply know that one day, things might not go too smoothly.

Rise Again. The mantra had rebuilt Lentus' after countless crackdowns by the authorities. Now, they stood proud and defiant in the face of law enforcement, carrying out their deeds. Soren would do the same.

He held Elizabeth's dog tags tighter in his hand, as he slowly stood up from his seat at the tree. He would lead the rest of his team out.

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	6. 6: Resolution

**More of a filler chapter here. Hopefully everyone's getting a good feel for the characters. **

**I'm sorry I haven't been updating lately, but life has reared its ugly head. I'll try to get the next chapter up sometime this weekend, since I'm heading back to the US for school. **

**Awesomesauce, for most of you!**

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns ME, I own OCs. Wish it weren't so!**

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The next few days passed in a blur. Receiving no response from the Epsilon barracks, Soren was left to fend for himself. He put himself in contact with one of the flight squadrons nearby, and successfully requisitioned a supply drop with live ammo and additional weaponry.

Once the team got their hands on some real equipment, Soren led the thirty-some recruits he had at his disposal to great effect, neutralizing the immediate enemy presence with minimal casualties and pushing their stronghold back.

After Elizabeth's death, Soren vowed to protect the rest of the team and rounded up the rest of the recruits. They found Nick in time to keep him from starving to death, but Branson, still suspended in his armor, had been shot by the attackers.

They were about to take out their base of operations when Alliance HighCom radioed for them to stand down. Soon after, Black Ops Marines landed on the backwater planet to secure and control the area before handing leadership over to Alliance Intelligence.

No one knew who were the men that attacked Epsilon – Five or where they came from. Once Black Ops landed, they had sent the group back to the barracks and essentially shut them from the outside world. It was all kept under hush-hush once Alliance Intel and Black Ops came to sweep the area, removing all traces of the assault. Not a single officer or soldier that Soren tried to talk to had given him a straight answer on what the hell was going on.

The drill sergeant in charge of Epsilon was court-martialed for neglecting his duties and ignoring the recruits on their final mission, suffering a dishonorable discharge from the Systems Alliance military. Soren and his teammates were assigned their mandatory ten-day leave, and they would eventually spread out to their different corners of the galaxy.

They threw a huge party back at the barracks the night before leaving, with even the officers on station joining in and congratulating Soren on a job well done. Soren nursed his one drink throughout the night, numbly nodding when another group of people approached to congratulate him. While the rest of them got hammered, he silently sat by himself in a corner, thinking of their losses.

_His_ losses.

He left the party early, packed up the few belongings that he possessed, and retired to his bunk, slowly wondering where he could take his leave, before succumbing to a restless sleep.

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The next morning Soren woke up to find an absolutely hammered Iceman on the floor next to his bunk, slobbering all over the floor.

Shaking his head, he slapped the undoubtedly hung over man a few times. When he failed to stir, Soren retrieved a small bucket of water that he unceremoniously dumped over his head.

Iceman sputtered as he blearily shook his hair free of the ice-cold water. "What the - ?!"

Soren couldn't help but snort at the scene in front of him. "Wake up, Fred. It's time to get out of here."

"Ugh…" Now fully awake, Iceman took notice of his massive hangover. He clutched at his temples, trying to get the pain out of his head. "Give me a moment," he murmured, stumbling to his feet and groaning as he shuffled towards the bathroom.

Soren smirked at his friend's suffering, and started cleaning up the water that was now slathered all over the floor.

It took a few minutes (and several cups of coffee), but eventually Iceman was sober enough to think straight, and packed up for the journey. Together, they wordlessly cleaned out what had been their home for the past twelve weeks.

Soren had developed a bond with all the recruits, but he considered Fred to be a true friend. Grateful for the company, Soren exchanged his omni-tool address with Iceman before leaving for the shuttle. They'd be splitting up at one of the relays, Iceman heading back to his family while Soren gunned for the Citadel. It was sure to be an interesting leave.

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The ride to the Citadel was uneventful. Soren and the others headed to the space station were shuffled up to an Alliance troop transport, where they were transferred to the SSV Geneva, recently overhauled from a Cerberus antimatter raid in 2165. The recruits pulled duty shifts to help out the Navy crewmen, and after a couple of days of travel, the cruiser docked into Kithoi Ward.

Soren slung his duffel over his shoulder as the other recruits and the Geneva's crew disembarked. He headed over to the Alliance barracks and dumped his things on his bunk before leaving, eager to scout out the place. Some of the others waved him over, and he gladly joined up, grateful for the company.

They'd been cruising all over the Citadel with their rented skycar, laughing at the statues on the Presidium, TP-ing some of the less important buildings, and making snide comments about the aliens around on the station. Soren laughed a bunch, and his squadmates were not bad company to hang with.

There had been this poor Turian cop who was trying to control a situation with a dozen Hanar, and the group laughed away in a small alcove, roaring in mirth when one of the Hanar attached itself to the officer and started sucking like a jellyfish. Things quickly escalated as the Turian began to suffocate, and the group rushed to pull the jellyfish-like alien off the officer, acting as crowd control at the same time. Things progressed peacefully afterwards.

They'd been going at it for a few hours when Soren got a ping on his omni-tool. He puzzled over the message before marking it unread and continuing with his activities.

Later on, in a club where he was trying to wipe the memories of Elizabeth's headless body with copious amounts of alcohol, some girls approached the table and shamelessly started flirting with the "big, strong soldiers," clearly eager to take some of them home.

Soren hadn't seen the problem when he did just that, spending the night with one of the blond bimbos that hung on every made-up story he had of his time in Lentus. He even managed to tell himself that he enjoyed it.

The next day, after sneaking out of the apartment and checking his omni-tool for service updates, he pored over the message he got the previous night. It was a one-sentence deal, without a signature or any other indication of who sent it. He didn't know if it was supposed to be ominous or what, given that it was written in an obnoxious font and simply said, "In light, the darkness will prevail." Soren was tempted to just delete it, but something about the message told him to keep it, just in case. He'd ask one of the techs to work on it sometime.

Shrugging, he shuffled the message to the very depths of his inbox and got back to the barracks to clean up.

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**As always, please leave a review! I know this story has been getting some hits but it seems no one has left any feedback so far, apart from my one faithful reviewer (Thanks swemanD47!) Let me know what you guys think!**


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